


The Groom's Father

by BreathOfThePhoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, James Potter Lives, Sharing a Bed, Single Parent James Potter, Supportive Harry, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Weddings, side nottpott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathOfThePhoenix/pseuds/BreathOfThePhoenix
Summary: Hermione's plans for Harry's wedding go awry when she ends up sharing a room — and a bed — with the groom's father.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 255
Collections: LoveDump 2020





	The Groom's Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> A little one-shot for LadyKenz; I hope this smutty little Jamione brings a smile to your face! Thanks for all you do :) 
> 
> Beta and pre-reading thanks to PotionChemist and Curly_Kay. Any mistakes are my own. I don't own anything.

“I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. We don’t have a ‘James Potter’ on the reservation list.” 

“What about Prongs? Or Fleamont? Uh… fuck!” 

Hermione, who was sitting on one of the sofas in the foyer of the hotel, looked up to see her best friend’s father cursing at the man behind the check-in counter. 

“Sir, I don’t see any of those names on the list.” 

James ran a hand through his black hair. “Okay, well are there _any_ rooms available? I’ll pay double.”

The man shook his head, frowning. “We’re fully booked. The Nott-Potter union is the wedding of a century, after all.”

“I know! I’m one of the groom’s fathers.” James slammed his fist against the counter. “Fuck.”

Unable to watch James curse at the stranger, Hermione closed her book and walked over to the counter. 

“Excuse me”—she paused to look at his name tag—“Edward. Could you please check the status of my room? I was told it would be ready soon.” 

“Yes, of course, Miss Granger. I was about to notify you that it was available.” He handed her a brass key with a tag on it. “Room 710.” 

“Wonderful, thank you.” She slipped the key in her pocket and turned to look at James. “Come on then. I can’t let the groom’s father sleep on the lawn.” 

He looked at her, shocked. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course. It’s only two nights. I’m sure we can stay out of each other’s hair.”

As it turned out, the room they had given Hermione had one bed and a small sofa, barely big enough for two people to sit comfortably. Her good natured offer to let him share a room with her had _not_ included sharing a bed. 

James aimed his wand at the sofa, trying to enlarge the piece of furniture. He sank down onto the cushions when it didn’t budge.

“They put enchantments on the room so you can’t fit more people in there and not pay,” she said. “Look, we’re both adults. I’m sure we can share a bed for two nights.” 

His eyes looked up, watching her through his lashes, a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips. “As adults, does that mean we get to do adult things?” 

Heat filled her cheeks and her heart began to race. She had always found James attractive, even if he was her best friend’s father and twenty years her senior. It would be a complete lie if she said that she hadn’t thought of doing _adult_ things with him, though those thoughts were often only in private and at a time when she could fully enjoy the fantasy. 

“Wha—what?”

“Adult things. You know, like going to bed early and arguing in the morning over who snored louder? What did you think?” 

The excitement that had built up in her chest dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. 

“What you said. Of course. Nothing else.”

Before he could speak, she grabbed her dress for the rehearsal dinner and ran to the loo, wanting to put distance between them before she said or did something she shouldn’t. 

Resting her head on the closed door, Hermione steadied her racing heart. There was no way she could spend two nights sleeping that close to James Potter and remain calm. It was like he knew she harboured a crush on him and was using it to his advantage. 

This was going to be the longest weekend ever.

* * *

“So I hear you’re shagging my dad.”

Hermione choked on her drink. She brought her hand up to swipe at the liquid that slipped down her chin. 

“Harry! I am _not_ shagging James. What gave you that idea?”

He smirked at her, bumping his elbow against her ribs. “You’re sharing a room? I figured that was reason enough.” 

“Yes, we’re sharing a room, but that was only because something happened with his reservation.” When he continued to smirk, she merely rolled her eyes. “He’s your dad. That would be strange.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say. Enjoy your night with _James_.” He grinned at her before moving across the banquet hall to find Theo. 

Groaning, she downed the last of her wine before grabbing another as a tray floated by. She downed that one as well.

A low voice spoke in her ear, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. “Might want to slow down. It’s completely inappropriate to do adult things with someone who’s been drinking.”

“I wasn’t aware that discussing someone’s snoring habits required a sober mind,” Hermione retorted.

“It most certainly does. How am I to believe your points if you’re not thinking straight?” He was still invading her space, his cologne filling her nostrils and fogging her mind. “Your cheeks are awfully flushed, Miss Granger. Is that the alcohol or is there something else making you flustered?”

His voice was silky smooth, wrapping around her and taking hold of any coherent thoughts she might have. The only thing she could think of was what it would be like to hear him shout out her name as he came or to feel the stubble on his jaw against her thighs. She wondered what his cologne would smell like when it mixed with arousal. 

A loud voice rang through the room, pulling Hermione from her thoughts and causing James to step back, creating space between them. It felt like she had been doused with ice water. Everything was clear again and her thoughts of him returned to just being a fantasy and nothing more.

“If everyone can take their seats. Dinner will be served momentarily.” 

“If I may?” asked James, holding out his arm for her to take. “We’re sitting at the same table and my mother would roll over in her grave if she found out that I wasn’t being a proper gentleman to a beautiful woman.”

 _Well shit_.

* * *

Hermione retired to the room before James did, hoping that she would be able to change and get into bed before he showed up. Grabbing her bag, she put on her pyjamas, cursing herself for only packing sleep shorts and a shirt. Even though it was October, she preferred to sleep in less clothing and snuggle into the blankets. Of course, she hadn’t realised that she would be sharing said blankets when she packed for the weekend. 

She climbed into bed and pulled out her book, hoping that reading might help calm some of her nerves. The door to the room opened and James wandered in, pausing to lean against the wall at the end of the bed. 

“You left without me,” he said, pouting. 

Looking up over the top of her book, she nodded once. “It was getting late. Tomorrow will be a long day so I thought I should turn in early.” 

He made a humming noise in agreement before turning to go to the loo. She sighed and returned her attention back to her book, trying to distract herself from him. He had looked perfect in a tailored suit. She could only imagine what he would look like tomorrow when he was wearing his finest robes. 

The door to the loo opened and Hermione looked up just in time to see him come round the corner wearing only a pair of pyjama bottoms that hung dangerously low on his hips. Growing up, she had gone on countless vacations with Harry and James so it wasn’t the first time she had seen him shirtless, but it would be the first time she was this close to his chiselled abs and the deep cut of his hips. 

“What are you wearing?” she demanded. “Where’s your shirt?”

James shrugged, moving around the bed and pulling back the covers. He must have caught sight of her barely covered legs as he raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I don’t think I’m one to judge for the amount of clothing I am or am not wearing.”

Huffing, she snapped her book shut and placed it on the nightstand. “No funny business. You stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine.”

“Alright, but I can’t be held responsible for any cuddling that happens while we’re asleep. I get cold,” he said with a wink.

“Then put on a shirt!” 

She waved her wand, extinguishing the lights and casting the room in darkness. The air in the room shifted and she immediately wished there was still light. In the dark, she couldn’t tell if his eyes were watching her, she couldn’t see where his hands were. 

“Hermione,” he whispered.

“James.” 

“Don’t smother me in my sleep, alright?”

“Fine. But only because tomorrow is Harry’s wedding.”

Silence stretched in the space between them and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. 

“Don’t smother me tomorrow night either,” he said finally. “Harry wouldn’t be too pleased.”

“I make no promises.”

“Alright.” He paused. “Night, Hermione. Thanks for not making me sleep on the lawn.”

“Good night, James.”

* * *

Early autumn sun broke through the curtains, dousing Hermione in its warmth and waking her slowly. Hoping to rest for a few more minutes before starting the day, she nestled into the hard pillow. She couldn’t remember it being this firm the night before but assumed that it was just her brain playing tricks on her.

Something moved against her back and her eyes popped open. 

A hand had slipped its way under her shirt and was pressed against the bare skin of her lower back, holding her close. It took her a moment to realise that the hand belonged to James and that she was flush against him, their legs a tangle of limbs. The pillow she had thought was firm turned out to be the pane of his hard pecs. His hard _bare_ pecs. 

“Ah!” she gasped, having fully let her brain catch up with the situation. Jumping from the bed, she took the sheets with her, leaving James on the bed uncovered. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the proud tent in his sleep pants. 

He brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, blinking up at her slowly. “G’morning, love,” he slurred, flashing her a sleepy smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“What the hell?” 

“I see you’re not a morning person. I’ll remember that for next time. Perhaps breakfast in bed is more your style?” His eyes roamed over her body and he winked.

Hiking the blankets up higher, she glared. “No. No, you’re my best friend’s father. There _is_ no next time.” If she was honest, she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. 

“Whatever you say, love,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow and watching her. He either didn’t notice that his erection was standing tall in her direction, or he didn’t care. “I for one, had a great sleep. Best I’ve had in years actually.”

Heat rose in her cheeks at his comments. Unable to remain trapped between the wall and his heated gaze, she turned and ran to the bathroom. 

“Nice arse!” he called out as she slammed the door. 

Sinking to the floor of the loo, she brought her hands to her head. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be focusing on Harry’s wedding, _not_ on Harry’s father’s dick. Today was her best friend’s wedding to the love of his life and she needed to be present for that. She needed to get her head out of the gutter and focus on _anything_ but James.

* * *

“Hey, you’re late! Too busy with my dad?” 

Harry flashed her a wicked grin as Hermione plopped down on one of the sofas in his room. 

“I hate you.”

He gasped, bringing his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt. Insulting me on my own wedding day? When I asked you to be my best woman, I wasn’t expecting that your unconditional support included telling me you hated me.”

“ _Fine_ , I don’t hate you. Just your father. Is that better?” she asked, rolling her eyes. 

Laughing, he got up and joined her on the couch, pulling her into his arms. “What did dear old dad do?”

“We snuggled. Snuggled! I don’t snuggle, Harry. I never have, even when I was dating Ron. It’s constricting and warm and I want my space.”

“But not with him?” 

Tugging her lip between her teeth, Hermione worried them, trying to put her feelings into words. “It wasn’t the worst thing,” she settled on. “It was… nice, until I realised what was happening.”

He shifted their positions so he could look at her, he took her hands in his. “Did you ever think that maybe you might find him attractive and want to be something more for him than just my friend?”

“No, no way. He’s—”

“He’s my dad, I know,” he said, cutting her off. “You keep saying that, but I see how you look at him when you think no one is watching. And I see how he looks at you.”

Hermione dropped her eyes to where their hands were joined, letting his words sink in. Of course she found him attractive, who wouldn’t? Even at twenty year her senior, he was fit and funny and a brilliant Auror. He was kind and knew when the right time to crack a joke was. If she was honest, he was everything she wanted in a significant other. 

But he was Harry’s father and that was a line she had told herself she would never cross. 

Tipping her chin up with his fingers, Harry’s green eyes met her own brown ones. “Don’t hold back on something you want just because you’re scared or think he’s off limits.”

She didn’t say anything, instead letting his words sink in.

“Besides,” he said after a minute. “You’d be a great step-mummy.”

* * *

The rest of the day went without a hitch. Harry and Theo were married outside in the hotel gardens, and the early October weather cooperated enough that no spells were needed to keep people dry. Hermione had cried as the two exchanged vows, promising to build a life together that was full of love and light and family. 

After the ceremony, the guests went into the hotel ballroom to wait for the reception while Harry, Theo, Hermione, Draco, and James stayed outside for photos. Draco’s parents were there in place of Theo’s own parents, having stepped in to raise him after his mother passed. 

“Alright, let’s get one of Harry’s side,” the photographer called, directing them into various positions. “Miss, can you stand in the middle? Yes! Just like that.”

Standing in the middle of James and Harry, her entire body was on edge at the closeness. Harry’s hand, wrapped around her shoulders, gave her a light squeeze and he flashed her a knowing smirk. She didn’t want to react and give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered, so she looked back to the photographer and waited for him to take their photo. 

“Perfect, now dad and girlfriend move just a tad to the left,” the photographer said, motioning with his hand. 

Hermione stilled, before she had the chance to correct the error James swept his hand around her to rest on her lower back. 

“As if I’d ever be so lucky,” he said quietly, his breath warm against her neck. 

As soon as they were done with the group photos, and Harry and Theo went off to take photos just the two of them, Hermione dashed off to the loo. Splashing her face with cold water, she took a deep breath. The ghost of James’ touch was everywhere and she couldn’t get rid of it. Hours had passed since they had woken that morning and she could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers. 

She thought it might be burned into her memory.

* * *

“Do you plan on asking him to dance? Or are you going to just keep eye-fucking him from across the room?” 

Hermione turned to find Harry and Theo standing behind her, hand-in-hand and stupid in love. 

“I’m not eye-fucking him,” she said. “I’m watching people dance and he happens to be in my eyeline.”

Theo snorted and shook his head. “Please, it’s obvious to everyone but yourself. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

She opened her mouth to reply and then promptly closed it. Both Harry and Theo had called her out, and even the photographer had noticed something. Was there much point in denying it when the rest of the world already knew? She looked back to James, drinking him in and realising that if she didn’t act now, she never would. 

“Harry, tell me not to,” she said, levelling her gaze. “I need you to tell me that I can’t do it.”

Shrugging, he just grinned at her. “Can’t do that, sorry.”

Downing the rest of her champagne, she placed the flute on the table and rolled her shoulders back. She could do this. She could be sexy and suave and alluring. She could seduce a man. 

She was Hermione-fucking-Granger.

“James,” she said as she approached him. He was deep in conversation with one of Harry’s great aunts but stopped the minute she called his name. 

“Hermione, have you met my Aunt Matilda?” He gestured between her and the older woman. 

Ignoring him and Aunt Matilda, she reached for his tie, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. He gasped, his lips frozen, and she wondered if everyone had read the signs wrong. Just as she was about to break the kiss and run, his hand moved to her hair, weaving into her mass of curls. His other hand slid to her waist and tugged her hips flush against his. 

“Want to get out of here?” she whispered against his mouth.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest and he nipped at her lip. “Fuck, yes. Lead the way, witch.”

Hermione led them as they ran through the halls of the hotel to the lift, thankful that there was no one around to share it with them. As the doors slid closed, James pressed her against the wall, his lips immediately capturing hers. She could feel his hardened groin on her stomach, her knickers damp at the thought of him naked. 

The doors opened and he pulled them from the lift, his mouth never leaving hers as they moved to their room. She was vaguely aware of the door opening before he pushed her inside, his hands reaching around to cup her arse. 

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned. “Can’t wait to get you out of this dress.”

Her hands moved to the front of his robes, pushing them to the floor. There was too much separating them. She needed him — his fingers, his tongue, his cock — in her. Her entire body ached for him. Moving her fingers quickly, she divested him of his shirt and trousers until he was in just his pants, his erection clearly visible through the thin fabric. 

Turning her around, his fingers dragged the zipper of her dress down and pushed the thin straps off her shoulders. The silky material pooled around her feet, leaving her in just her lace knickers. Confidence flowing freely, she turned around and faced him, her nipples stiff peaks.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his gaze never leaving her. “You’re perfect.” 

Their lips crushed together in a heated frenzy. Her knees hit the bed and James’ body toppled over hers, his knee opening her thighs to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her warm center to him, grinding up against him. His cock rubbed against her lace-covered clit and she thought she saw stars.

Even still clothed like this, Hermione thought she might come. James’ hand moved to her tits, rolling her nipple between his fingers as his tongue fucked her mouth. He made her feel sexy and desired, moaning her name as his hips thrust in time with hers. His free hand slid down her body and into her knickers, dipping a single digit between her wet folds. 

His thumb rubbed circles over her clit and she cried out his name. “James, fuck, more.” 

Moving his lips from hers, he left wet kisses down her neck and chest as his hands slipped her knickers from her hips. Her own hands pulled at the band of his pants, freeing his erection. It hung heavy between her legs and she salivated at the thought of it inside her. 

“I want to take my time with you,” he said between kisses on her stomach. “I want you to know how beautiful you are, how sexy, how badly I’ve wanted you.” 

She reached for his hair, her fingers weaving through the dark locks and tugging him back up. “Later, I need you _now_.”

The head of his cock rubbed against her clit and she moaned. Her hand wrapped around the thick girth and pumped, making sure he was as ready as she was. Swiping her thumb over the head, she gasped as he bit her neck. 

Lining himself up, James slid into her, moving slowly until he was fully sheathed. He waited for a moment, letting her adjust to the fullness. He thrusted against her, his eyes watching her closely. 

“Faster,” she pleaded. “Don’t go slow.”

He growled, his hips snapping to meet hers quickly. His hand twisted in her curls, opening her neck to him so he could suck on the thin skin there. Every nerve in her body was alive with want. She dug her fingers into his back, her nails leaving marks on his otherwise perfect skin.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she would last when his pace sped up. None of her other partners had been able to bring her to a climax this quickly — sometimes not at all — and she wondered how he was able to make her feel like this. Her hips ground circles, matching his pace and driving her closer to the edge. 

His hand left her hair and moved to the space where their bodies joined, his fingers rubbing hard circles against her clit. Closing her eyes, she felt the wave of her orgasm crash into her. Her toes curled and she gripped the mattress, a loud cry of his name spilling from her lips. 

He captured her cry with his mouth, his tongue stroking hers. The steady pace of his hips changed, snapping harder and faster, and she thought she might have a second orgasm right away. 

“I love it when you say my name,” he groaned.

“James, James, James,” she chanted, her words matching the speed of his hips. 

When his fingers gripped her waist and she slammed into her erratically, she could tell he was close to his own release. He grunted with each thrust, his breath hot and ragged on her neck. His cock spasmed inside her and she clenched around him, milking him of his climax. 

As his thrusting slowed to a stop, his fingers released their hold on her waist, sliding up her ribs and tucking under her shoulders. He collapsed onto her, his head nestled in the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and letting out a satisfied hum. 

His cock slipped from inside her, leaving her feeling empty and missing him already. He moved to rest his head on the pillow and pulled her close to him. 

Hermione curled up beside him, feeling properly fucked, her head resting on his sweaty chest. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to slow her frantic heart. James tucked a stray curl behind her ear and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Tell me that wasn’t just a one time thing?” he asked, his voice sincere. 

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can ever go back to before.”

“Good,” he hummed as his fingers traced patterns along her skin. “Convenient thing my reservation didn’t go through, isn’t it?”

Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at him. “You never made a reservation, did you? This was all a set up?”

James smirked and rolled so he was hovering over top of her. His nose brushed against hers and he gave her a quick kiss. “Harry was all too willing to help.”

“I should have let you sleep on the lawn,” she muttered, pressing her lips to his. 

As it turned out, sharing a bed with James Potter hadn’t been the worst thing in the world.


End file.
